Breathe. Slow. Ok ok ok.

Everything is perfectly fine and perfect and yet. I�m shaking. I�ve been a perpetual shake machine for days and days. I�m working hard to keep this under control. Can�t have these wholesome folk here think I�m a speed addict. I'm not a speed addict. I don't know why I'm shaking like this. It's terrible. Everything should be ok. I think I�ve got everything under control, everything thought of, contingencies planned. What am I not thinking of? What is the problem, my friends? Ach.

Camping trip has been delayed one month. My friends are kind. Even sfitz. Even Complaint. Good-o.

Shawn is attacking the weed-infested lawn with something verging on compulsion. He can�t stop pulling up weeds, trimming hedges. Energetic little brothers are a godsend.

We had food last night with Bathsheba. Goofiness in abundance. Dessert before dinner, throw-up stories, disgusting ice-cream soups, disgusting cole slaw, silly food tricks, and general harassment of our young server.

It�s going to be just fine.

All my screws are loose and this rattling, I swear, will pull me all to pieces.

Breathe. Slow. Ok.